


Dort am Klavier

by Silent_So_Long



Series: otpprompts [24]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Piano, Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and a piano</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dort am Klavier

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song “Klavier” by Rammstein, which roughly translates from the original German as - “There, by the piano.“
> 
> Story inspired by the following prompt on tumblr’s otpprompts: [Imagine your OTP have been living together for a while, say, one year. One day, Person A decides to surprise Person B by coming home early. When they do, they hear piano music coming from the living room. They have a grand piano there that Person B inherited from a relative, but neither of them use it. Person A walks in and finds Person B playing a beautiful, albeit unfamiliar piece. After noticing that Person A is there, Person B becomes flustered and tries to leave, but Person A says that it’s okay, that it was beautiful. Not only that, it also turns out to have been Person B’s original composition. What happens next is up to you. Bonus: Person A then convinces Person B to perform at a local cafe/jazz club.](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/113025579053/imagine-your-otp-have-been-living-together-for-a)

Richard sat alone at the breakfast table, chewing slowly and sleepily at the toast he clutched between equally sleepy fingers. He washed the crumbs down with a swig of his orange juice; he savoured the tart sweetness after the heavy buttery taste of the toast. A lance of sunlight filtered in through a chink in the clouds outside, warming Richard where he sat; it seemed as though the grey of the morning was starting finally to dissipate. He sighed, stretched, remainder of his toast held high above his head as he did so.

He dropped his hand back to the table again when he heard Paul whistling lowly upon his entrance; the other man was staring at where Richard’s abdomen had been exposed in a long line where his shirt had come untucked and ridden high. Richard grinned and tilted his face up to the other man’s, eyes closing as Paul pressed a nuzzling kiss against his mouth and his nose. Richard chuffed out a laugh at that and didn’t complain when Paul stole the last remaining piece of toast from his plate. 

“I’m gonna have to dash, today, Reesh; I’ll be late otherwise,” Paul muttered from around the toast that was now clenched between his teeth. 

Richard nodded, rendered momentarily speechless by his current mouthful of orange juice; he watched as Paul sat at the grand piano, to tie his shoe laces. Richard thought again of how at ease Paul looked whilst perched before the impressive instrument and smiled with a fond nostalgia that was not truly his own. The piano that now sat in their living room had once taken pride of place in Paul’s uncle’s house; Richard had always assumed that the young boy that Paul had once been had sat in that very spot upon the piano stool many a time, small legs swinging and feet barely hitting the floor. Not for the first time, Richard smiled at the images those assumptions brought to mind; his smile was tempered with sadness, because he knew how much Paul missed his uncle since he‘d died. Even though Paul had been grateful that the piano had been left to him, it seemed poor recompense for the life that had been lost. 

“What’s the smile for?” Paul asked, as he shot Richard a small smile of his own. 

“Just thinking of you,” Richard confessed, but he didn’t explain further. 

“Oh? Your smile was sad; I thought something was upsetting you,” Paul said, looking suddenly worried. 

Richard sighed and stood, brushed the crumbs from his hands before he closed the distance between them. 

“No, Paulchen, I’m fine, danke,” Richard said, as he dotted a kiss to the end of Paul’s nose when Paul got to his feet with a slight groan. “Just reminiscing, I suppose. I’m okay.” 

Although it did not remove the worry from the other man’s eyes, at least it put a smile back upon his face again. 

“Well, if you’re sure,” Paul said, anyway, as he reached up to wipe a smear of butter from Richard‘s cheek.

“Yeah. I’m sure. Anyway, I thought you were going to be late,” Richard reminded Paul, as he swatted the other man playfully upon the butt. 

“I am. I will be,” Paul said, with a sudden laugh. “I’m going. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Absolutely,” Richard said, with a smile, knowing that he, too, would be late for work if he did not hurry up.

Unlike Paul, who worked in an office, Richard worked in a cafe; as such, they both had reasonably early starts. He saw Paul to the door when it looked as though the other man was struggling, juggling bag, coat and keys between his hands and the floor in his attempts at opening the door. Paul was laughing by the time that he wrestled his way out of the door with Richard’s help and paused long enough to kiss Richard goodbye for the day. Richard grinned and watched the other man leave, only closing the door again when he was certain that Paul was out of view. 

::::

Richard decided to return home early that day, hoping to surprise Paul with a home-cooked romantic dinner and a movie. That day marked their first anniversary of living together and Richard wanted to celebrate the occasion. 

He snicked the front door closed carefully, and frowned in surprise when he heard music playing somewhere inside their apartment. For one brief, fear-filled moment he thought that someone had broken in. Only the absence of a kicked-in door and smashed locks convinced him otherwise, despite the fact that their neighbourhood was safe and mostly crime-free. 

Besides which, he wondered what kind of burglar played music, especially something that sounded almost classical, whilst robbing someone’s property. He shook his head at his own folly and decided that Paul must have returned early himself, and had put on a CD in the living room. He almost shouted out for the other man, but a sudden thought rendered him momentarily silent; the music he heard sounded too real, too organic to be coming from a stereo. Instead, it sounded as though it was being played on the piano that Richard himself had been admiring just a few scant hours before. Richard blinked in sudden confusion; he’d never once known Paul to play that piano in all the time that they’d known each other and he certainly didn’t know how to play himself.

Intrigued, he crept through into living room and stood in the doorway, and causally leant upon the door frame with one shoulder. He kept his gaze upon Paul, whose head was bent, cheek partially turned away as his fingers danced over the keys. Each note was well thought out, obviously well practiced, and even though Richard did not know the piece of music, he could tell that Paul loved it. His eyes were partially closed, lips slightly parted and curled into a slightly dreamy smile at the corners, and he looked utterly lost in all that he was doing. Then Paul suddenly started when Richard moved and his eyes rose to meet Richard’s own. Surprised, Richard saw that Paul actually blushed slightly, one hand rising to scrub at the back of his neck with his continued embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have,” Paul said, a little too hurriedly for Richard‘s liking, as though he‘d been caught doing something a little off colour instead of beautiful.

“Why? It’s your piano,” Richard said, as he made his way fully into the room. 

“It’s stupid,” Paul said, as he stood and for one awful moment, it seemed to Richard as though Paul was going to leave the room entirely.

“Please don’t,” Richard said, and he was surprised at the sadness, bordering on heart-break, in his tone.

Paul paused himself at that, one glance thrown over his shoulder, yet still Richard was glad for the fact that he stayed.

“Please don’t,” Richard said, again and his voice was steadier that time. “Please play for me again.” 

“I can’t,” Paul said. “You’ll laugh.”

“Did I look like I was laughing just now?” Richard pointed out, uncertain as to whether he should feel affronted by the accusation or merely just sad. 

Paul shook his head, but he still didn’t return to the piano.

“I didn’t know you could play,” Richard offered, when the silence stretched out a little too long.

“You didn’t ask,” Paul countered, but he didn’t sound angry, merely resigned. 

“I’m sorry. I should have done,” Richard admitted. “But you showed no inclination of ever playing in front of me so I just assumed that you couldn't.” 

Paul didn’t say anything.

“Why?” Richard asked.

“Why what?” Paul asked, with a frown of confusion pulling his brows down low over his eyes.

“Didn’t you say?” Richard clarified.

“Because I was embarrassed,” Paul said and Richard noted that the other man did, indeed, look genuinely embarrassed by his newly discovered hobby. 

“Why should you be? Your playing is beautiful,” Richard said and he didn‘t have to fake the admiration in his tone.

Paul turned to face him properly then, wonder on his face at that; he dared to smile when he saw how serious Richard looked.

“You liked it?” he asked, in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Richard said, simply. “Please play for me again. I’d like to hear more.” 

“Like what?” Paul asked awkwardly, yet Richard was glad to see that Paul was deigning to sit down, at least. 

“Anything. The piece you were playing when I came in, perhaps,” Richard asked, as he moved to kneel beside the piano. “What was it? Bach? Wagner?”

Even though Richard wasn’t familiar with many composers, he at least knew of those. 

“Jesus,” Paul said suddenly, with an equally sudden laugh. 

“What?” Richard asked, in sudden surprise. 

“I’m not Bach or Wagner, Reesh,” Paul said and his continued amusement warmed his face and his eyes and made Richard smile in turn despite his confusion.

“I didn’t say you were. I just asked whether you were playing one of their pieces,” Richard asked, with a shrug that bordered on helpless.

“And I’m still not Bach,” Paul said. “But thank you for the compliment. The piece I was playing was mine.”

“Yours? Fuck off,” Richard said, with a sudden laugh. 

“Well, don't sound so surprised,” Paul said, but the laugh he gave was genuine and loud. 

“Well, what d’you expect? I’ve just found out that not only can you play, but you’re a composer now? Jesus. As if I didn’t need further reason to love you,” Richard said, as he kissed Paul's knuckles.

“Shut up, Kruspe,” Paul said, obviously embarrassed over Richard’s compliment. 

Paul pushed Richard away, palm flat against his forehead; Richard rocked back onto his butt and grinned up at Paul. 

“I just know you’re gonna start your wounded puppy eyed look if I don’t play,” Paul grumped, even though a grin still played about his mouth.

“Well, I was thinking about it,” Richard admitted, eyebrows lifting slightly with his admission.

Paul huffed again and laid his fingers against the keys again.

“Now, I swear this is far from polished, but it’s the best I've got at the moment,” Paul said, looking embarrassed again. “I’m actually writing this for you.”

“Me?” Richard asked, in surprise.

“For our anniversary,” Paul explained. “It’s stupid, I know, but I just thought I’d do something special for you.” 

“I don't think it stupid,” Richard objected. “I actually was gonna make you dinner but that somehow pales into comparison against this.”

Paul merely offered him a smile before he pressed an awkward kiss against Richard’s lips; Richard returned it and waited patiently until Paul finally began to play. Richard listened, enraptured, swept away by the slow and stately piece that Paul was playing, filled with minor notes and odd, sliding cadences. One tear tracked down his cheek when Paul finished, which Paul silently noticed and bent to kiss away.

“Thank you,” Richard said, gruffly. “And I don't mean for the fucking kiss before you say anything. I meant for the music. It was beautiful.” 

Paul smiled at that but didn’t laugh outright. Instead, he stared down at Richard.

“Did you really like it?” he asked, . 

“Of course. I wouldn‘t lie about something like that, would I? In fact, I‘d really like it if you played for me more often,” Richard said, as he stared up at Paul hopefully.

“Okay, but not tonight,” Paul said, with a weary smile. “I’m a little tired from work.”

Despite the other man’s weariness, Richard could tell that Paul was genuinely touched and pleased by Richard’s interest in his piano playing. 

“Okay, then, another time, perhaps,” Richard said, with a slight smile. 

“I’ll think about it,” Paul said, but he looked as though he was giving it some serious consideration. “Now, about that dinner you mentioned. What‘s happening about it? I‘m hungry.” 

Richard nodded and got to his feet with a groan; he felt slightly uncomfortable from having stayed in one position for too long. Even though Richard didn’t expect him to, Paul followed him into the kitchen and insisted on helping with the cooking. After a slight hesitation, Richard nodded with a grin and set Paul the task of making the tomato sauce for the spaghetti.

In time, they sat to eat, and Paul’s grin was a happy one, as he enthused over his plate of grilled tuna and tomato spaghetti. Richard watched with a smile, glad for the fact that the other man was enjoying his food so much. They ate in silence at first, before conversation began slowly, building up until they filled the space between them with glances as much as with words.

Richard poured the wine whilst Paul settled in the living room again, a bowl of rich chocolate mousse perched in his lap. They exchanged smiles as Richard settled beside him; Paul leant in for a kiss, which Richard eagerly reciprocated. 

“Thank you, for a lovely evening,” Paul murmured against his mouth. 

“I could say the same to you,” Richard replied, as he stole another kiss. 

Paul hummed in appreciation, chocolate mousse momentarily forgotten whilst they continued to kiss, free hands soon rising to caress and tangle in each other‘s hair. 

“I think we should take this to the bedroom,” Richard suggested, voice dark and filled with promises he was all too willing to keep. 

Paul seemed initially reluctant to move, too comfortable upon the sofa, yet Richard teased him with a flash of skin and exposed nipple as he lifted his shirt up. That at least made Paul laugh and the other man finally set his bowl and spoon aside. Richard was grinning by the time that he followed Paul into the bedroom, yet neither man spoke; instead, their hands and their mouths did their talking for them, as clothes were shed and kisses exchanged as easily as caresses. 

Paul was the first to settle upon the bed, with Richard his swift and eager shadow, lube in hand; Richard made short work of preparing Paul, and when they finally joined, it was with a quiet, shared sigh of relief. Their love-making was slow at first, soon building into loud and noisy climax, cries swallowed by messy kisses and lustful caresses; Richard was reluctant to ease away once it was over, yet Paul followed to snuggle comfortably into his side. Richard smiled and settled his arms about the other man, before he pressed kisses to his forehead and lips.

“You know, you really should play in a club or something,” Richard suggested between kisses. 

“A strip club? Darling, my body is only for you,” Paul said, a teasing note warming his voice and his laughter.

“Lucky for me that it is,” Richard rejoined with a grin, before he turned serious again. “I’m serious, Paul. With talent like that, you could really make a name for yourself playing piano in the clubs around here.”

“I don’t know, Reesh,” Paul said. “It’s a big step to take.”

“I know that, Paulchen,” Richard said, with a sigh. “I didn’t really expect you to perform a set next week in the Yorkschlösschen, did I? It’s just something to think about, I suppose.”

Paul sighed himself, as he traced questing fingers over Richard’s chest. He shifted uncomfortably and his movements attracted Richard’s attentions again; they exchanged a smile and Richard could see that Paul was giving the idea some serious thought.

“It might do me good,” Paul conceded, finally, with a nod. “In a year’s time.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Richard said, with a smile, before he leant in to kiss Paul again. 

Paul chuckled at that, but didn’t say anything more; instead, his hands did his talking for him, fingers tracing tender patterns and caresses against Richard’s skin. Richard traced patterns of his own against Paul’s body; in time their mouths and bodies joined again, soft murmurs falling from parted lips in the darkened room as they made love once more upon already sweaty sheets


End file.
